


Step It Out, Tony

by celtic7irish



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Abrupt Ending, Angst, Baron Stark, Character Death, Earl Hammer, Ex-Soldier Bucky, Implied Character Death, M/M, Royalty, Seriously not a happy ending, Tragedy, implied suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 08:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13899987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celtic7irish/pseuds/celtic7irish
Summary: Tony hadn’t meant to fall in love; he really hadn’t.  And he most certainly hadn’t meant to fall in love with a man, and one of the King’s foot soldiers, at that.  But Bucky wasn’t like the other soldiers.  He was smart and funny and completely wasted as a mere general in Pierce’s army.  It didn’t hurt that he was really, really easy on the eyes, either.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the warnings. I am serious. There is no happy ending whatsoever here. This prompt arose from an idea spawned by the song Step It Out Mary.

Tony hadn’t meant to fall in love; he really hadn’t.  And he most certainly hadn’t meant to fall in love with a man, and one of the King’s foot soldiers, at that.  But Bucky wasn’t like the other soldiers.  He was smart and funny and completely wasted as a mere general in Pierce’s army.  It didn’t hurt that he was really, really easy on the eyes, either.

They had met nearly eighteen months prior, when the Stark Manor had been opened to injured and exhausted soldiers from the war being fought overseas.  Bucky had been brought in by another soldier, a Captain among the King’s Knights, and he’d been missing an arm.  He had been treated as best they could, but without two working arms, he had been discharged from the army and left to fend for himself.  Tony, oddly taken in by the man with the stormy eyes and the charismatic grin, had convinced his father to allow Bucky to remain on their lands as a stablehand.  It was a poor way to repay his service and his sacrifice, but there weren’t many options available to a one-armed ex-soldier. 

The two of them had quickly found themselves in an awkward dance, courting one another in secrecy, meeting in the town square by the fountain, or down by the sea where they were unlikely to be interrupted, sneaking kisses in the aspen grove that ringed the Stark Barony.  Not that it really mattered if Tony snuck out of the manor nearly every day, because Howard Stark hardly even noticed he was gone.  The Baron could care less about where his heir and only son was, or what he was doing, as long as he wasn’t embarrassing the family.  And so, when Bucky had proposed to him on the anniversary of their first meeting, Tony had been ecstatic, and had accepted immediately.

The two of them had made plans to run away together, knowing that Tony’s father would never approve of a common soldier for his only son.  Howard Stark might only be a Baron, but he had the arrogance of a Duke.

Still, everything would have been fine if Tony hadn’t unintentionally caught the eye of one Justin Hammer, son of an Earl and a cowardly excuse for a man.  But thanks to his father, he had wealth, land, and a coveted title to inherit.

Tony hadn’t even done anything special to attract Hammer’s attention.  He’d simply accompanied his father to a ball held by Earl Hammer as a cover for much shadier dealings.  Baron Stark made weapons, sharper and lighter than anything currently available, and Earl Hammer was a steady customer for his wares.

Standing in a corner of the massive ballroom, Tony was staring moodily into his flute of champagne when Hammer had sidled up to him.  “You’re the Baron’s kid, right?” he asked smarmily.  It wasn’t really a question, so Tony didn’t answer.  Hammer’s eyes narrowed, but Tony wasn’t paying attention and missed the warning signs.

“My father is the Earl,” he informed Tony haughtily.  Tony resisted the urge to roll his eyes and say something rude.  Howard had told him in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t to offend the Earl.  He had also been very explicit as to the consequences should Tony anger them.  Which meant that Tony had no choice but to be polite, as tiresome as it was likely to be.

Taking a deep breath and reminding himself that this would be over soon, he glanced up at the other man and gave him a practiced smile.  “Justin, right?” he asked, allowing the Earl’s son to take his hand.  “I’m Tony.  Yeah, Baron Stark is my father.”

“I knew it!” Justin exclaimed, gripping Tony’s hand tightly between both of his.  As if his father hadn’t carefully outlined the other families and their positions relative to the Earl’s own, just as Howard had done with Tony.

Tony gave him a tight smile, withdrawing his hand as quickly as possible without insulting Hammer.  “Yes, well, it’s been a real pleasure, but if you’ll excuse me, I have some business of my own to attend to.”  And with that, he beat a hasty retreat, making his way outside to wait for his father, all the while wishing Bucky had been able to come.  The soldier would have had plenty to say about one Justin Hammer, he was sure.

His father took considerably longer to leave the party than usual, but he seemed inordinately pleased with himself as he handed a message scroll to one of the Earl’s runners, so Tony thought little of it.  Perhaps the Baron had talked Earl Hammer into backing yet another one of his super soldier experiments, his attempt to create a group of superior men to fight their wars.  He hadn’t succeeded yet, but he kept assuring his benefactors that it was only a matter of time.  Tony had taken a peek at his results and had to agree that his father was onto something, though it was debatable how much longer it might actually take.

Howard waited until they returned to their manor before telling Tony the “good” news.  “The Earl’s son has asked for your hand in marriage.  As this will be a mutually beneficial arrangement, I have agreed on your behalf.”

Tony felt the bottom drop out from under him, and he leaned heavily on the table in front of him.  “You want me to marry Hammer?” he choked out.  “Are you insane?”  Howard’s face darkened, but he ignored it.  “He can’t offer me anything I want, father!”

“You?” Howard scoffed.  “Perhaps not.  But us?  He can offer us so much.  You will marry Lord Hammer, and in short order, too.”

Tony looked desperately towards his mother, but the Baroness would not meet his eyes, and Tony realized that in this, as in everything, she would support her husband first, and her son only if it did not conflict with the Baron’s wishes.  He tried one final time. “But I have already promised myself to another,” he admitted, bracing himself for his father’s anger, and hoping that he survived it long enough to get to Bucky.  They had already been planning to elope, this would simply move the timeline up.

“I am well aware of your foolishly youthful indiscretions,” his father sniffed, and Tony flinched.  “Which is why I took the liberty of having the stable hand removed from the premises prior to our return.”  Tony looked up in alarm.  Removed?  “He will be returning to his homeland on the next ship out,” the Baron informed him, and Tony relaxed slightly.  Bucky was still alive, though he wouldn’t have put it past his father to have the other man killed.  “Until then, you will remain in your room, where the butler shall keep an eye on you.”

As if he’d been waiting for his cue, Edwin Jarvis stepped into the room, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared straight ahead. “My Lord,” he acquiesced, then turned to Tony.  “Young lord, please come with me,” he intoned.  Tony threw one desperate look at his mother, who glanced up briefly before looking away again, then turned to follow Jarvis out of the main hall and towards his rooms.

He briefly considered making a break for it, but apparently the Baron had already realized that he might try something like that, and there were guards posted at every possible exit between the hall and Tony’s quarters.  He would not make it very far before being stopped, and it would only make things worse.  No, better to wait for a little while, appear complacent.  The wedding would take time to organize, which would give him time to make his own plans.  He knew where Bucky’s homeland was, knew the best way to get there was to cross the sea in one of the large fishing boats that traversed the icy waters weekly.  He would have to get his timing just right, or he would miss the boats and would risk being caught on this side of the sea.  And if his first attempt failed, his father would make absolutely certain there wouldn’t be a second.


	2. Chapter 2

Jarvis delivered Tony to his rooms without incident.  He bowed low.  “Please inform me if there is anything you should require, my lord,” he intoned, before backing out of the room, the heavy doors closing behind him.  A moment later, there was the sound of a key turning in the lock.  Tony wanted to scream.  Or break something.

Instead, he paced the floor of his sitting room, his mind churning furiously.  He was too high up in the manor to risk jumping.  He could, perhaps, knot together a makeshift rope out of the high-quality silk sheets, but he’d have to figure out how to secure them.  And how not to get caught on the way down.  Baron Stark might not be the wealthiest man in the country, but he had enough servants that would be only too happy to report any escape attempts on Tony’s part to his father in the hope of a tidy bonus.  If he went that route, he’d have to wait until after dark.

A rumble of thunder sounded outside, and Tony scowled.  There was no way the silk sheets would hold up under a downpour.

With a huff, he strode into the bedroom and tossed himself onto his bed, not bothering to remove his boots as he tucked his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling, trying instead to find ways out of the marriage with Hammer.  Unfortunately, his father would probably tie him to the damn alter to make sure he went through with it, and once he was married, escape would be even harder.  Hammer seemed like the ivory tower type, more interested in having a prize than in actually dealing with another person.

So that left escape as his only option.  He didn’t know how long he’d have to plan, but he supposed it could at least wait until daylight.

Kicking his boots off and letting them drop to the floor, Tony sat up long enough to remove his outercoat and vest before dropping back down in just his trousers and undershirt.  He wondered where Bucky was right now, if he was okay.  Howard would undoubtedly have ordered the man off his property immediately, giving him little or no time to pack or contact anybody.  Tony felt sick with the various  _ what ifs _ that kept creeping through his thoughts.

What if Bucky was hurt?  What if Bucky came across highway robbers?  What if Bucky couldn’t find a boat? What if Bucky didn’t have food or money or warm clothes?  What if there was no home for Bucky to return to?  What if Captain Rogers didn’t want to see his former second-in-command?  And on and on and on.

Eventually, Tony fell into a fitful sleep, plagued by dreams of stolen moments with Bucky interrupted by nightmares fueled by worry.  An innocent kiss under a tree changed into a mouthful of blood.  The touch of a finger on his hip turned into the cruel grip of a stranger.  The hushed whispers of secrets between lovers turned into loud, screamed accusations.

When Tony finally bolted awake some hours later, covered in sweat and shaking from the night terrors, he was exhausted.  But he knew that there was no way he’d manage to get to sleep now, so instead, he got up and stumbled into the bath chambers, stripping out of his sweat-soaked clothes and stepping into the basin, shivering as the cool water enveloped him.  If he’d called for Jarvis, one of the servants would have heated up the bathwater for him, but right now, the cool water felt good against his heated flesh, even as he shivered.

Reaching for the nearby rag and soap, Tony gave himself  a perfunctory scrub before climbing out and dressing in comfortable clothes.  If he was going to plan an escape, there was no point in putting on the layers of proper noble attire.  Besides, it wasn’t like anybody except Jarvis was going to see him anytime soon.

When he stepped out of the bath chambers, he found food waiting for him.  Just in case, he surreptitiously checked the doors, but they were locked still.  It was obvious that Howard wasn’t taking any chances with his only son.  Tony supposed he should be flattered that Howard was expecting an escape attempt and had taken precautions.  It meant he wasn’t as completely oblivious to his son’s disposition as Tony had assumed he was.

Lifting the silver dome, Tony noted that none of the food present required any sort of utensil.  True, his mother would be horrified if she saw Tony eating with just his hands, but she wasn’t here to see him.  Tony wondered if it had been Howard’s idea to remove the cutlery, or if Jarvis had been the one to do so.

Scowling, Tony brought the food over to a large, overstuffed chair and settled in to eat.  Starving himself would do nothing to stop the wedding, and it would only serve to make him weaker and less focused if he continued to refuse to eat.  So he might as well keep up his strength.

It occurred to him about halfway through the meal to wonder if his father would go so far as to drug him, but he had felt no worrisome effects from the food or drink yet, so he supposed they were uncontaminated.  He made a mental note to check first next time - he was pretty sure he still had his old chem kit around here somewhere, it would be easy enough to test for the more common drugs - and then finished his meal, sipping at the wine as stood and moved over to the window, pulling aside the curtains and looking down into the courtyard.

Servants were scurrying about like ants, and Tony realized that preparations for the wedding were already underway.  Apparently, the wedding was to be held here rather than at the Earl’s estate, and Tony shuddered, determination washing through him anew. There was no way in hell he was going to marry Lord Justin Hammer.  He’d rather die.

Before taking such drastic measures, though, Tony decided that he’d find Bucky.  They could decide on their future together, whether they wished to run away and start anew, or stand and fight against those who would tell them what to do.  Tony would happily trade in his title and his money for a lifetime with Bucky by his side.  He’d even settle in the countryside, if that’s what it took, find work on the docks, or perhaps as a blacksmith.  He enjoyed working with his hands.

A course of action decided upon, Tony turned his thoughts back towards escape.  He could try and break his way out of the bedroom through the door, but he was certain that his father had ordered the doors to be guarded at all times.  Still, unless Howard had stationed men like Rumlow or Ward out there, he wasn’t terribly concerned.  Most of the servants had strict orders when it came to Baron Stark and his kin, and Tony was positive that he could get past them before they figured out what to do, if he was fast enough in his escape.

Tony roamed his room, searching for anything he could use as a potential weapon, packing a small knapsack with clothes and other necessities, as well as a few gold coins to be used to barter for safe passage across the sea.  Most likely, he would have to forage if he wished to remain undetected, but maybe the next meal or two would have some food that he could pack away that wouldn’t go bad for a few days.

When lunchtime came, Tony was seated on a high-backed chair, facing the door.  There was the quiet scrape of a key, and the doors opened to reveal Jarvis, who met his gaze briefly before letting it drop again.  “Dinner, my lord,” he said, setting down the new tray and sweeping up the one from breakfast.  Then he was gone, and Tony waited until he heard the sound of the lock again before getting up to explore the new meal.

This time, he had been left with a spoon, and he palmed it.  It might not seem like it was much use, but the metal could undoubtedly be sharpened into something more useful.  And if not, he could always poke someone’s eye out with it, he supposed.

Eyeing the meal in front of him, Tony ate the meat and cheese, but wrapped up the bread rolls.  Bread might go stale, but it should still be edible for a few days before mold got hold of it.  Then he settled in to read a bit, choosing one of the many books on his shelves.  If it happened to be a book on edible plants, well, he _was_ a well-rounded individual.  


	3. Chapter 3

Tony glanced up several hours later when the door opened again, the flickering from the lamp he’d set on a table near his chair throwing odd shadows across the room.  He remained still, expecting Jarvis to enter with his supper.  Instead, his mother’s worried face greeted him, and Tony found himself standing.

“Mother,” he greeted, waiting until she’d come into the room before moving forward.  He closed the door behind her, well aware of her gaze on him, then turned and ushered her to the second high-backed chair, making sure she was settled before reclaiming his own seat.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked, trying hard not to let the bitterness bleed into his tone.

His mother flinched.  “Anthony,” she began, then fell silent again, apparently not actually having had a speech prepared.  “Anthony,” she tried again, “your father is doing what he believes is best.”

Tony snorted.  “For me, or for him?” he asked darkly.  His mother’s expression fell, and he gentled his tone.  “It’s fine, Mother,” he said.  “He’s going to do what he wants, regardless.”  Maria had never stood up to her husband, and the few times Tony had tried, he hadn’t come out of it unscathed.  

She sighed, clenching the fine material of her skirts in her hand before releasing them, smoothing them out almost nervously.  “I know that you had feelings for that other man,” she said, sympathetic brown eyes lifting to meet his before dropping back to his lap.  “But once you get to know Lord Hammer, I’m sure you will come to…appreciate him, as I came to care for your father.”

Tony bit back a sound of disgust.  There was no way that Hammer would _ever_ have anything that Tony wanted.  Not money, not fine clothing, not servants, not prestige.  Those were all things his father wanted, Tony’s feelings on the matter be damned. It was only _the rest of his_ _life_ they were dictating.

Maria didn’t stay much longer before she took her leave, taking a moment to clasp Tony’s left hand behind both of her own.  “It will be okay,” she told him.  “You’ll see.”

And with that, she was gone, the lock clicking softly behind her.  And Tony was left staring at the small key sitting in his hand.

His fingers closed tightly around it, and he eyed the door warily.  Even if he were to use the key now, there were undoubtedly guards waiting for him just outside.  The next time Jarvis came in with his supper, Tony would try to see how many guards were out there, and which ones his father has assigned to make sure he stayed in his rooms like an obedient son.

It was nearly an hour later when Jarvis walked in, not meeting Tony’s challenging gaze.  “Your supper, my lord,” he informed him needlessly before leaving again, the door locking behind him.  Tony moved forward and uncovered the new meal, surprised to find that it was filled with portable foods.  Salted meats wrapped in cloth to help preserve it; a variety of nuts tucked into a tiny pouch that would fit easily into his knapsack, flat biscuits, and water in a pair of leather canteens that he would be able to refill when he passed by streams.

There was also a small note tucked in amongst the food, and Tony picked it up to read it, recognizing the neat scrawl as belonging to Jarvis.   _May the wind be at your back_.  He tucked the note in his pack as well before turning towards the door, his fingers clenching tightly around the key.  Taking a deep breath, he moved forward and pressed his ear against the door, listening for any sounds on the other side of it.

Hearing nothing, he took a deep breath and held it as he slipped the key into the lock and twisted.  No guards burst into the room to apprehend him, and he slowly cracked the door open, peering out into the gloom of the corridor.  There was no movement, and he grabbed his bag from where he’d set it on the floor just inside the doors and swung it up onto his shoulder before stepping out into the hallway.  He finally caught sight of the guards, slumped over where they sat on the stone floor, fast asleep.  There was a nearly empty flask nearby, and Tony realized that Jarvis had likely risked his job and his life to give Tony this chance at escape.

Bending down, he picked up the flask, then froze as he recognized the dainty etching edged in gold.  This was one of his mother’s heirlooms.  He smiled grimly and set it back down; no servant in their right mind would dare to accuse the wife of their employer of drugging them.  They would rather suffer the consequences of failure than to do such a thing.

Tony dropped the key to the floor.  He wouldn’t need it anymore, and perhaps the guards would be allowed to keep their jobs if they could show Baron Stark that his son has somehow undone the lock from the _other side_ of the door.

Not willing to waste any more time, Tony hurried on, keeping as close to the shadows as possible.  The castle was mostly deserted by this time of night, and Tony didn’t come across another soul as he made his way to the front gates.

He slowed down when he got there, peering out a nearby window.  He could see the lanterns from the guards by the manor gates, and knew that they’d spot him the moment he tried to leave the premises.  However, by then, he should be moving quickly enough that he’d be able to escape their attention.

Slipping out the door as silently as possible - the door still made a low rasping sound as it scraped along the stone - Tony pressed himself against the front of the building, moving slowly so as to not attract attention.  Raucous laughter made him flinch, and he ducked down behind nearby bushes. 

“I hear the Baron’s boy is gonna marry the Earl’s brat,” one of the patrolling guards told his friend, who just snickered.  “D’you think Stark’ll burn the place down?”

The second guard shrugged.  “I don’t know, and I certainly don’t care,” he admitted, spitting on the ground.  “They’re all spoiled rich brats, if you ask me.  Good riddance, I say!”

His companion made a sound of agreement as their patrol moved them out of hearing distance.  Tony made a note of their faces, just in case they should find themselves in need of a bit of goodwill later.

Moving quickly, but carefully, Tony made his way to the stables, peering around the edge of the doors before moving inside.  When Bucky had been the head stable hand, he had slept near the horses.  He’d also been an incredibly light sleeper, so nobody had ever been able to sneak past him.  But the guy who’d been promoted to take his place - some kid named Peter, Tony didn’t know him all that well - was apparently the exact opposite, sprawled out as he was on a cot in one of the stalls, his limbs all flailed out and his mouth wide open as he snored.  Tony slipped past him easily and into the furthest stall on the left, where Hulk sat.

Hulk was the largest horse in the fleet, and the most beautiful.  Solid black except for a single diamond in the center of his forehead, Hulk had the most vivid green eyes Tony had ever seen on a horse.  

Tony held out his offering of a sugar cube, and Hulk wickered at him quietly before accepting, snapping it up in two quick bites.  Tony pet his face and neck.  He wished he had the time to saddle up, but he didn’t know how long the guards would be out, and once they realized he was missing, he’d lose his chance at escape.

Opening the stall, he urged Hulk to step out into the center aisle before swinging up onto his back and patting the side of his neck.  “All right, buddy,” he murmured.  “We’re making a break for it.  So you get to run as fast as you want.”  Hulk tossed his head and stamped impatiently at the ground, turning his head to look at Tony as if to ask what he was waiting for.  Tony smiled, his hands finding their way into Hulk’s mane as he settled down for a mad dash to freedom.

“Hiyah,” he whispered lowly, and Hulk took off, his hooves thundering down the aisle as he barreled straight past a startled Peter and out into the yard, turning automatically towards the front gates.

Tony just hung on for dear life, pressing his face against Hulk’s reassuring bulk as they darted past the guards, who yelled out in surprise before sounding the alarm.  “Come on, come on, come on,” Tony muttered, turning Hulk down the road.  He wouldn’t be able to stay on the main road for long, but if he could just put some distance between himself and Stark Manor, he could turn Hulk loose to find his own way home and travel through the woods to sea, where he would hopefully be able to barter for a ride to the other side where Bucky was.

By the time Hulk started to tire, they were nearing the forest, and Tony allowed Hulk to slow down to an easy canter, looking anxiously behind himself.  Just because he hadn’t seen any signs of pursuit didn’t mean there weren’t any.  It took time to gather people and tracking dogs, and to saddle up horses.  His father would undoubtedly have sent messengers to the neighboring provinces as well, though his pride wouldn’t allow him to admit that his son had run away.  No, he’d probably choose to announce the impending nuptials instead, knowing that anybody who saw Tony would want to congratulate him on finding a husband.

As they approached the forest, the Hulk started to sidle nervously to the side, leery about entering the dark trees.  Luckily for him, he wouldn’t have to.

Tony brought him to a halt with a gentle tug before slipping to the ground.  Hulk eyed him curiously, his chest heaving with the exertion of his run.  Tony patted the side of his neck, and then wrapped his arms around the horse’s neck.  “Thanks, buddy,” he murmured.  “Make your way home, okay?  Peter will make sure you’re taken care of.”

The horse grumbled at him, pressing his head against Tony’s chest imploringly.  Tony stroked his ears and cheeks.  “Sorry, big guy,” he murmured, “but you can’t come with me.”  Hulk whinnied, but allowed Tony to push him away reluctantly.

As Tony entered the first row of trees, he looked back to see Hulk watching him.  Lifting his hand, he gave the loyal beast a short wave, then turned back around and headed deeper into the forest.  This time, he didn’t look back.


	4. Chapter 4

It took Tony nearly five days to cross the forest, traversing streams and climbing trees to try and avoid the dogs that his father had sent after him.  He was tired and hungry and filthy, and he knew it was only a matter of time before the men tracking him succeeded. He’d already had to drown one of the dogs when it had gotten too close, having run away from its handler.  His throat still tightened with grief whenever he thought about it.  But he couldn’t be caught, not now, not when he was so close.

He could only imagine what he looked like as he staggered out of the forest towards the fishing boats, the men ignoring him as they went about their business, shouting at each other as they untangled nets and checked their equipment.  Tony staggered to a stop a few yards away, eyeing a hamper that no doubt contained the fishermen’s lunches, but he stilled himself, ignoring the way his stomach gurgled at the thought of actual food.

One of the men finally looked up and noticed him.  “What’chu lookin’ at, son?” he asked suspiciously, which naturally drew the attention of the other men to the scruffy-looking intruder in their midst.

Tony swallowed, his throat making a dry clicking sound as he licked chapped lips.  “How much?” he managed to croak, the question barely audible.  Clearing his throat, he tried again.  “How much for passage across?” he asked, his voice only slightly stronger this time.  Determination was the only thing keeping him on his feet right now.

The guy who’d first spoken looked at the other men, who shrugged or shook their heads.  Reaching into the hamper, the man pulled out a sandwich and a flask, holding them out to Tony.  Tony eyed them warily before accepting, lifting the water to his mouth and guzzling thirstily, taking several large gulps before lowering it and laying into the sandwich with abandon.  The men looked at each other again, and Tony knew what they were thinking.

“I’m not a runaway soldier,” he muttered.  “Or a servant.  I have money.  Here,” he said, pulling out the gold coins he’d grabbed before he’d left the manor behind and holding them out to show the men.

The first man, who was apparently the spokesperson for them all, took one of them from his hand and examined it.  “Where’d you get this?!” he demanded gruffly, throwing it back at Tony as if it had burned him.  It landed in the dirt by Tony’s feet, and he knelt down to pick it up.  

“It’s mine,” he admitted.  He knew he was taking a huge gamble here.  If the men thought he was lying, they could report him to the authorities, and he would find himself awaiting his father in prison.  If they did believe him, they could still report him to the authorities, and he would be delivered personally back into his father’s care.  But he was exhausted, and he was out of time.  He needed them to believe him, and he needed them to accept the money for safe passage across the sea.

He didn’t know what sort of desperate expression was on his face, but the man nodded slowly.  “Okay, buddy,” he said.  “It looks like you’re in some kinda trouble, either way.  But I’m afraid we can’t accept the money.  And we can’t take you across the sea.”

“What?” Tony demanded.  “Why not?”  The fear left a pit of ice in his stomach and sent bile crawling up this throat. “I can pay, I promise! If you won’t take the money, I’ll find something else.  But I need to get across the sea.  Please!”

“Whoa, whoa, easy there, fella,” another man spoke up, approaching Tony like one would a spooked horse.  “It’s not that we’re unwillin’.  But the water’s too rough right now.  I know it doesn’t look it, but the undercurrent is too dangerous, we’d risk tippin’ the boat.  And the water’s freezing this time of year.  You’d never make it back to shore before you froze to death.”

Tony looked at the water doubtfully; it really didn’t look that dangerous.  “You’ve never been on a fishing boat before, have you?” one of the men asked wryly.

Tony shook his head.  The only boats he’d been on had been war boats, intended to hold hundreds of people and supplies for raids overseas.  And his father’s pleasure boat, nearly four times more massive than the fishing boats he was looking at.  Still, he couldn’t risk staying here any longer than necessary.  It was not quite dawn yet - fisherman started early and ended late - but the sun would be up soon enough and the hunt would resume.  Tony was barely ahead of them as it was.

“How long?” he asked.  “Until the tides are safe again?”

The men’s expressions were starting to show various degrees of concern.  “Not for another few days,” the first man said at last.  “What’re you runnin’ from, son?”

Tony shifted uneasily on his feet.  “Not from,” he said, though the glance he gave back the way he’d come gave the lie away almost immediately.  “Towards. I need to catch up to Bucky.  Maybe you saw him come this way?” he asked hopefully.  “He’s only got one arm, kinda hard to miss.”

Eyebrows rose, and then men looked at him consideringly.  “You’re with Barnes?” one of the other men, dark-skinned and thin, asked.  Tony turned towards him in surprise.  “Name’s Sam. Wilson,” he introduced himself.  “Barnes was here.  Left just a bit ago on the Captain’s ship.”  He gestured towards the sea with his thumb.  “Lot safer than one of these rickety things, but next one isn’t due for a week.”

Tony swore under his breath.  He didn’t have a week! There was no way he could outrun the dogs and their handlers for another week, living off the land.  And he couldn’t risk staying in a nearby village.  Which didn’t leave him a lot of options.

He scanned the boats, taking a few precious minutes to try and determine their condition, before pointing at one.  “Sell me that boat,” he said.  “I know how to steer, I will go myself.  There should be enough money here to replace it.”

“You must be joking,” Wilson spoke up again.  “You won’t survive a day.”

Tony shook his head.  “I won’t have to,” he said, confident.  “I just have to catch up to Rogers’ boat.  But you probably won’t get your boat back, so I’ll buy it from you,” he added hopefully.

Wilson wavered for a moment, but finally shrugged.  “It’s your life,” he said, “and I guess if you’d rather risk freezing to death over stayin’ here, then I’ve got no right to stop you.  But keep the money.  I’ve got another boat already ordered, just waitin’ for it to get here.”

When Tony went to protest - it seemed incredibly unfair to take the man’s boat and not pay him anything for it - Sam held up a hand.  “Look, I get it,” he said, “I really do.  I’ve got a girl back home that I’d risk everything for, too.  So consider it a gift, though it may be more trouble than it’s worth.”

Tony’s knees almost buckled in relief.  “Thank you,” he said, grasping one of Wilson’s hands in both of his own and shaking it enthusiastically.  “I don’t know how yet, but I’ll find a way to repay you.  I will!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wilson mumbled, pulling his hand free and turning away.  “Let’s get you ready.  You said you’re in a hurry, right? And the sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll catch up to the other boat.”  

Within half an hour, just as the sun was starting to show above the horizon, Tony was on his way, waving goodbye to the fishermen.  The knapsack at his feet held enough food and water for two or three days, another gift from the fishermen.  Tony really had no idea how to repay them for their kindness, but he’d make sure he did. Someday.  

Tony turned his concentration to steering the boat.  Above him, the clouds began rolling in, threatening more rain.  Tony was tired of the rain, though it had certainly helped him lose the dogs that first day.  He hoped that Hulk had made it back to his stable before the first storm had struck.  

The boat had a sail, but the breeze was coming in the opposite direction, so Tony was reduced to rowing it.  The oars were a good length, at least.  A little longer than was strictly comfortable, but Sam was also a good couple of inches taller than him, so that made sense.  If it got too hard, he’d break off the ends of the oars to make them a bit shorter.  But they were broad enough, and Tony was strong.  Maybe not fisherman strong, but he’d done his fair share of work in the forges, helping his father build weapons, that he had stamina to get him through a couple of hours of rowing.  He hoped.

He knew only vaguely which direction Captain Roger’s boat would have taken, and he headed there as quickly as he could, using swift, sure strokes to pull himself through the water.  The undercurrent kept trying to drag him off course, though, and as the clouds thickened, the waves grew rougher, lapping over the side of the boat and drenching his boots.  Tony shivered, wishing he’d thought to pack more clothes.  Or a blanket.  What little he’d started out with had been soaked through repeatedly, and dried as he walked.  The first thing he was going to do when he got to land again was take a long, hot bath.

Three hours in, and the rain had started, covering up the sun again as it drizzled down.  It wasn’t a storm, yet, but Tony suspected it was only a matter of time, as the sky lit up in the far distance.  He’d consider himself the luckiest man on earth if the storm bypassed him.  Vaguely, he found himself worrying about Bucky out in the storm, but the truth of the matter was that Bucky was much, much safer on his warship than Tony was on his little fishing boat.

A particularly rocky wave threatened to tip the boat, and Tony cursed as he twisted to the side, bringing it back down.  Level again, he looked up, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of the Captain’s ship.  “Come on,” he muttered to himself.  “You can’t have been that far ahead of me.”

He forged ahead determinedly, trying to maintain a steady heading as he cut through the water.  If he got turned around, there was no telling where he’d end up.  The boat was rocking almost constantly now as he struggled against the waves, completely soaked again between the rain coming down and the water cresting over the sides of the boat.

His hands were cramping, his arms and shoulders aching from the unfamiliar exertion, when he finally caught sight of the hulking ship in the distance.  “Oh, please have mercy and be the right boat,” he muttered, though at this point, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t care if he was picked up by pirates.

Now that he had a heading, he started rowing again, this time with renewed determination.  It was easier, now, to fight the waves, when he knew which way he was going, grateful he hadn’t been completely turned around.

He pulled to within hailing distance just as the skies opened up, the steady rain suddenly turning into a downpour.  Tony could barely see the other ship, or the people on it, and it took all of his concentration to keep the boat from tipping over.  He couldn’t afford to go under, not now. The waves would sweep him away and he would freeze to death long before he ever drowned.  

Focused on steering the boat in the brutal waves, Tony didn’t see the people pointing out at sea, shouting to each other.  Nor did he see the boat start to turn, Bucky straining over the edge, eyes riveted on the tiny boat being tossed about by the storm.

A sudden wave caught the underside of the boat and lifted it up.  Tony could feel the boat tipping over, and he was helpless to stop it this time.  Looking up, his eyes met Bucky’s.  Bucky’s mouth opened, the man screaming something, and then it was lost behind a wall of water as the boat flipped over, taking Tony with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on quick research on how long a person can reasonably row: 
> 
>  
> 
> At a steady long pace you can row , with breaks , for about 8 hours - After that most people will find muscles start complaining, and you get blistered hands
> 
> In an ordinary rowing boat, you might achieve about 2 to 2.5 miles per hour, but this is not allowing for currents or wind speed and direction, nor any waves .
> 
> With those against you, you could well get nowhere, or even be driven backwards .
> 
> With those with you, you might triple your nominally achievable distance covered .
> 
> So that would be 15 to 20 miles in 8 hours plus any wind or tide / current action to help you along .  
>  
> 
> I don't know how accurate this is, but hopefully it's accurate enough!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly in Bucky's POV, with a bit of Justin Hammer's at the very end. Hopefully the transition is a smooth one, but let me know if it's not!

Bucky had been scowling at the dark skies when the commotion on the deck finally pierced through his morose thoughts.

“What does that moron think he’s doing? Is he fucking insane?!” one of the men was saying, staring out at the choppy sea.  Bucky frowned; was there somebody out there?

Steve’s broad figure cut easily through the crowd of sailors and soldiers.  “Get this ship turned around,” he ordered calmly.  “We’ll pick him up. Maybe he escaped a pirate ship.”   _Or slave ship._ But those words remained unspoken, even though Bucky was sure everybody thought it.  He touched his shoulder absentmindedly, the phantom limb aching in the cold and the wet.

“It’s a miracle he’s made it this far in that little boat,” Steve murmured as he stepped up next to Bucky, who just nodded absently, his mind far away from their current situations.  The warship would be fine in the storm, heavy and level enough that as long as they didn’t throw themselves upon the rocks, they would make it out relatively unscathed.

“I know him,” Steve said suddenly as the ship came around.  Bucky looked up at him in surprise, then turned to look out over the water.  What were the chances that Steve would recognize somebody who’d been held captive on a pirate ship?  Himself and a handful of others notwithstanding.

His eyes finally found the boat in the gloom, and he felt the blood drain from his face as he grabbed Steve’s arm with his good hand, clamping down.  “That’s Tony!” he choked out.  “Oh my god, it’s Tony! What’s he doing here?!” he whispered, his legs threatening to give out.

Tony wasn’t looking up, focused on steering the small fisherman’s boat in the stormy waves, which were only going worse by the second.  “Hurry up!” Bucky demanded of his best friend and commanding officer.  “He’s not going to make it, that damn piece of junk is going to fall apart!”

Steve’s face was pale but calm.  “If we move too fast, we’ll risk doing more harm than good,” he replied.  “We’re too big to get close, we’ll have to throw him a rope and tow him in.”  He was already giving the orders to his men.

Bucky went back to staring at his beautiful, insane lover, his whole body tense and poised to sweep Tony into his arms and never let go, just as soon as he was safely on board.  The bustle of the ship went on around him, but his focus was all for Tony.

Which is why he was the only one to see the wave that swept the fishing boat into the air and over as if it was a toy.  Tony looked up, acceptance and resignation on his face as he smiled at Bucky. 

“Tony, don’t you dare!” Bucky screamed, already moving.  He ignored the shouts behind him, and threw himself over the side of the boat before anybody could grab him and pull him back to safety.

The cold water was a shock, but Bucky had been out in the rain, so it didn’t stop him, even as a wave crashed over his head, slapping him under the water.  Bucky rolled and reoriented himself, using his legs and one good arm to drag himself up to the surface.  He looked around; he’d been swept a good ways away from the warship.

“Tony!” he called, sputtering as water hit him in the face.  “Tony, where are you?!” he yelled again, hoping to be heard over the sound of the wind and the waves.  He wasn’t even sure the warship could see him anymore, but he knew Steve would keep circling until he found them.  So Bucky needed to find Tony before Steve found him.

Another wave crashed into him and sent him under, and he found himself choking on water, his eyes and throat burning from the frigid temperatures as he broke the surface again.  Movement to his right caught his eyes, and he saw Tony clinging to the overturned fishing boat, an oar wedged into a broken board to give him something firmer to hold onto than the gentle slope of the boat’s hull.

Bucky  twisted himself in the right direction and moved towards Tony, seeing the way the other man’s lips were blue, his teeth chattering.  His skin was grey, and his breathing slow and steady.  “Tony,” Bucky said, clamping onto the oar with his good hand and pulling himself around so he could press his side against Tony, helping to prop the other man up.  If Tony let go of the oar, or the boat flipped again, he’d go right back under the waves, and Bucky cursed the loss of his arm for the first time in years.  He’d do anything to have two arms to drag them both to safety right now.  

“Come one, Tony, stay with me,” Bucky pleaded, shivers wracking his frame.  He hated that he was shaking, but he knew that when he stopped, it would be so much worse.  “I’m here, come one, focus on me.  Please?” he asked. 

“B-bucky?” Tony managed at last, looking up at him almost drunkenly, his eyes unfocused as the cold sapped his strength and concentration.  “I knew I’d f-f-find you,” he managed.

“You’re a damn fool, is what you are,” Bucky told him gently, “and I need you to hang on for just a few more minutes, okay?  Just until Steve gets here, he’s coming.  Remember the warship?  We got pulled away from us, but it’s close.”

Almost as if on cue, the large bulk of a ship rose from the waves, and Bucky looked up gratefully.  Kicking his legs, he risked letting go for a moment so he could wave, yelling out to the other ship.  He didn’t know if they could hear him, but a moment later, he saw people on the deck, scurrying about.  He didn’t see Steve, though.  Maybe the Captain was steering the ship, not trusting his helmsman.  Logan would be pissed.

Another wave broke over them, and Tony’s hands slipped off of the oar.  The boat clipped the side of Bucky’s head as it swept past them, and he scrambled blindly, dizzy with the force of it.  His hand fisted in Tony’s tunic and he held on tightly, gasping as he broke the surface again, dragging Tony’s head above the water and letting it rest on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around Tony’s waist and his legs kicking furiously, trying to keep them above water for just another minute.

The next few minutes were a blur of shapes and sounds as Bucky and Tony were hauled out of the water onto a small boat that was still attached to the larger ship, and then brought aboard, where they dropped to the deck.  Bucky choked and spat up what felt like a liter of seawater, nausea and cold making him shake where he knelt, his teeth chattering.  Frantic still, he reached out and rolled Tony over, lifting him so that he could retch up the water he’d swallowed, as well.  Tony remained unconscious afterwards, but at least he was breathing.

Nobody had offered them blankets or anything, and Bucky looked up, expecting to find a disapproving blonde staring at him.  Instead, he found himself staring at the barrel of a pistol as Tony was hauled away.  “Thank you for returning my husband-to-be,” Lord Hammer said, his hand shaking only slightly as he kept the gun pointed at Bucky.  “I knew he was going to be a fun one.  I’ll enjoy him, I’m sure.”

Bucky snarled, shifting into a crouch.  There was a click and a bang, and Bucky slammed back into the desk, pain roaring up his shoulder and down his remaining arm as the lead pellet struck him, lodging itself in his shoulder.

Hammer’s tremor was less subtle now as he readjusted his aim, pointing the weapon at Bucky’s forehead.  “You know,” he mused, “this weapon was created by Tony.”  Bucky didn’t give anything away as he glared at the other man, but Hammer continued anyhow.  “His old man isn’t nearly so smart or creative as he thinks he is.  Tony is the real genius.”  His eyes were greedy and possessive as he looked at the gun, smaller and more compact than anything currently on the market.  And just as lethal, as Bucky was finding out.  “He calls it a handgun.  Geniuses, am I right?” he chuckled, as if sharing some sort of inner joke with Bucky.

“You don’t deserve someone like him,” Bucky growled, his eyes leaving the weapon and its wielder to look for Tony.  He must have been brought below the deck.

Hammer glared at him, his grip tightening on the gun as he pointed it straight at Bucky’s forehead.  “Maybe not, but I have him,” he snapped back.

His finger tightened, and Bucky moved, diving out of the way.  The bullet slammed into the wooden decking and stuck there.  Bucky’s foot slipped on the wet deck and he crashed down on his already injured arm, howling as he pain rocked through him.  He twisted around, determined to get the gun away from Hammer, but he didn’t have a chance.  The cool metal pressed against his forehead, and this time, Hammer didn’t waste his words.  Another squeeze, and then...absolutely nothing.

Hammer looked down in disgust at the dead man staring sightlessly up at the stormy skies, blood being washed away by the rain as fast as it stained his deck.  “Toss him off,” he said.  “I have more important matters to attend to.”  His men rushed to do as they’d been told, and Hammer turned to head below deck, stopping only long enough to lock the gun away in his personal chest before going to visit the man who would soon be his husband, whether he wanted to be or not.

After all, Justin Hammer _was_ the son of an Earl.  And what he wanted, he got.

And right now, what he wanted was Tony Stark.


	6. Chapter 6

Tony stared straight ahead, numb and uncaring as guests swarmed around the large tent set up on Baron Stark’s grounds, offering up congratulations and well-wishes.  Servants remaining unseen and unheard, appearing only to refill drinks or bring out another course.  Next to him, Justin Hammer was chatting away happily with Tony’s father, one hand clamped tight on Tony’s leg, just above his knee.  Tony couldn’t feel it.

He hadn’t seen Jarvis among the servants, but Peter from the stable had assured him that the elderly butler was fine and had simply been granted a few days off to tend to his ailing wife. His mother was there, though, and Tony pretended not to notice the pity in her gaze.  Later, he would be expected to smile and dance with his new husband.  And then….and then, he would be expected to do his other duties as Hammer’s husband.  He held a lower title than his spouse, and as such, would be expected to be subservient in all things. Even in the bedroom.

Tony suppressed the bile that wanted to crawl up his throat, keeping his face impassive as he ignored the hustle and bustle of people around him.  His mind was far away from the here and now, on a boat out at sea, Bucky at his side.  Brave, smiling Bucky, who had saved him, but had frozen and drowned in doing so.  Hammer had taken great delight in informing Tony of that when he’d regained consciousness, telling him all about how they had managed to drag the two men from the water, but hadn’t been able to save Bucky.  They had given his body to Captain Rogers to be buried in his homeland.

So Tony was alive, and Bucky was dead. And it was all Tony’s fault.  If he hadn’t been so stupid, if he had just gone along with his father’s wishes, Bucky would still be alive and happy living back home with his best friend. Maybe he would have found a wife - or a husband.  Had kids.  Lived to be a hundred years old.  But because Tony hadn’t wanted to stick to the plan, Bucky had died saving him.  Tony would never forgive himself.

And as the music changed, and Justin stood to his feet, Tony’s mind drifted back to his bedchambers at the Earl’s mansion.  And to the small gun he had hidden away.  He’d be with Bucky soon enough.  And then, they’d never be parted again.

Tony smiled.


End file.
